


food

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Fluff, Gen, changed the title because it sounded WAY too much like this was about vore, dont make fun of me, dunno i just really want to give him a hug, im begging you?, minor spoilers maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 14:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14750918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: komaeda's been restrained by the others for everyones protection—but someone has to feed him, right?





	food

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if there are errors i got kinda tired of proofreading :pensive: also sorry if there are pacing issues? like if it moves a little too fast idk. hopefully not i just wanted to write some fluff but im rusty so thanks komaeda for being my lab rat

It was your turn to feed Nagito.

To be fair, no one really wanted to feed him, talk to him, or be around him. distrust filled the fresh island air and everything felt ... tense. ever since Kazuichi decided it would be a good idea to chain Nagito up, unease had settled in your stomach. Things had gotten very, very serious and you didn't like it. No one seemed to trust each other, but they didn't trust Nagito especially. He was prone to ... outbursts of some kind, and they had started to worry the others immensely after the most recent trial.

Nagito was often rambling about things no one understood or cared to understand. You could understand why the others were frightened by it. Who wouldn’t be scared of being trapped on an island with a supposed lunatic, doomed to endure his ramblings and ravings for a presumed eternity? You had always been somewhat kind to him but even so -- you didn't really understand him. He seemed to switch moods faster than a lightswitch and it confused you. Nonetheless, you truly felt bad for him, somewhere in your heart.

You held the tray firmly in your hands using your feet, shoulders and back to open the doors to the building by the lobby and restaurant. On the tray sat a small bottle of milk and a plate with a few pieces of toast. Nagito liked toast, right? Or was it rice? You couldn’t recall his preference, but you hoped he wasn't a picky eater.

As the doors to the building creaked open and the floorboards beneath you moaned with old age, a shiver traveled down your spine. The building was significantly older and it smelled very musty, cobwebs lining the corners of the ceiling and dust caking the surfaces. Nagito had done a very good job of cleaning it, but you could tell he missed a few spots.

Alongside the eerie atmosphere, your discomfort was worsened by the memories of your late classmate, Byakuya. You tried your best to push them away as you slowly inched further into the building but the thoughts pecked at you like vultures, preying on your fragile state of mind … Would there ever be an end to it? 

Careful steps down the hallway led you to the doors of the dining hall. Shut tightly, you inhaled deeply -- preparing yourself mentally and physically before you entered. Could you really handle this? The task itself wasn’t hard, but being in the room where … you didn’t really know how long you could sit with the unease of being in a room where someone you knew had died. You didn’t want Nagito to starve, of course … but couldn’t someone else do it?

You turned your body and used your elbow to get one of the doors open, tray still firmly held in your hands. You jammed your foot in the door and swung it open further, allowing you to step inside. Surprisingly, the dining hall had a much different environment and feel to it than the rest of the building. It was clean and the lights were still on, pure white tablecloths cloaked the mahogany tables that were arranged in a specific fashion pertaining to the convenience of the previous party guests. Though boards covered the windows --’for renovation’, Monomi had said-- the atmosphere of the rest of the room outweighed them and further pushed away the reality that you were trapped. You were trapped like a caged animal with no hope of escaping or leaving in the near --or far-- future, and with the way your island life was in its current state, it was hard to truly forget.

You glanced around the room and there, on the floor in the middle of it all, was Nagito. Laying on his side with his hands bound behind his back and his feet tied at the ankles, he gave you a smile as you peered down at his body. His head rested gently on the ground and his eyes fluttered upwards, long eyelashes hooding his eyes and giving him a tired appearance. He looked surprisingly unbothered considering his current situation and you wondered how he could stay so hopeful when the whole world as he knew it seemed so against him. You inhaled deeply once again and stepped towards his figure.

“Nagito? I brought breakfast. We don’t want you starving,”  
“I wouldn’t mind.”  
“... I’m going to feed you, okay? Just … stay still. Please.”

You carefully lowered yourself down next to his head, setting the tray in front of you on the floor and --forcefully-- moving his head into your lap, propping him up to keep him from choking. As you maneuvered his head, you were able to feel how thick and soft his pale hair was. You were able to grace the tips of your fingers over his flushed cheeks and feel his porcelain skin. You were able to tilt his head upwards and briefly catch a glimpse of his sleepy eyes, full of contentment and a hint of adoration. You felt butterflies well up in your stomach and you couldn’t help but glance away as your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he did, but didn’t want to say anything.

He didn’t seem to protest your adjustments to his position, and you were sure he probably liked the attention you were giving him. He seemed to like it when people had given him attention, no matter how positive or negative it was. Anything was good enough for Nagito.

Not really feeling like staying in the dining hall for long, you got down to business right away, while he seemed to want to make small talk. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could finish his sentence, you shoved a corner of the toast into his mouth while you had the opportunity.

“Bite.”

Nagito did as he was told and bit down on the bread, carefully chewing as he peered up at you once again. You couldn’t help but stare back down at him. Where else was there to look? Without realizing, your thumbs had found their way to his cheeks, idly grazing his skin while he chewed. You hadn’t realized the amount of intimacy this interaction actually held and, subconsciously, you seemed to play along.

Once he had swallowed, he again began to speak. Before he could get a word out, you held the toast to his lips once again. You ushered him to eat, a stern hint to your voice.

“You need to eat, Nagito. We can talk later, if you’d like.”

He seemed to enjoy that offer, again biting down on his meal and chewing carefully, subtly nuzzling his head against your legs and stomach. You didn’t particularly mind but you wondered if his actions were intentional or purely coincidence. 

This feeding game went on for several minutes. As he ate and as you fed him, you found yourself idly wrapping your fingers around locks of his hair with a gentle tug. He seemed to lean into your hand each time, appreciating the touch more and more as time went on.

He was touch starved, and you could tell in the way he always seemed to stand a little too close to people, or the way he harmlessly set his hands on peoples shoulders, hopefully anticipating them to return the favor at some point in time. And how he offered hugs and a shoulder to lean on to those who needed a hand. He very much valued attention from others, and sometimes it seemed as if it didn’t matter whom he was getting it from.

His hair was much softer than it looked. From afar it seemed tangled, messy, or even matted. But it was, in fact, very delicate and clean feeling. It was such a pale color from the roots to their tips, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was natural. You considered asking, but you didn’t want to pry. Not that he would mind. You decided to mind your manners and stay quiet.

Silently, he finished his meal. You wiped the remainder of the crumbs off of his mouth with your thumb and gently brushed them off of his chest. He seemed so frail and breakable, you really did feel as if you needed to be extremely careful with him. His hands were thin and his skin was pale like porcelain, almost transparent looking. You were curious about him, more so than anyone else. He seemed to have a past that you wanted to know about, but were too afraid to ask about.

You wrapped your fingers around the bottle of milk, propping his head up a slight bit more with your other hand and tipping the rim of the bottle to his lips. You held the bottom of his chin, keeping his head in place as he sipped on the milk. Your thumb gently rubbed his jaw as he drank, to which he --intentionally or not-- also leaned into. He loved touch and affection. Your touch and affection. Being held even briefly was like heaven to him. 

Sometimes he found himself wanting nothing more than to be hugged, but he knew he was undeserving of it. He felt grateful and indebted to anyone that did anything as simple as shake his hand or pat his back. Attention was something he so desperately craved but so vehemently rejected, feeling too worthless to recognize and accept any genuine affectionate gestures.

As he finished the remaining drops in the bottle, you wiped any drips or trails of milk off of his mouth with your sleeve. It was difficult to drink in such a position, so you didn’t mind getting your sleeve a little wet. Taking care of him like this wasn’t as bad or as hard as you expected it to be. The affection shared between you both was enough to help you forget about your situation, about Byakuya, about everything else that mattered--or didn’t. You were purely focused on the boy in front of you, as if he had put you into a trance.

You somewhat enjoyed the responsibility that came from caring for someone else. Someone had to do it, after all. The last thing you wanted was for him to starve to death because the others were a little paranoid about his erratic behavior, rightfully or not.

“Thank you.” His voice was soft and sweet like a hot knife through butter. He always seemed grateful, and it made you smile ever so slightly.

“You… You’re welcome, Nagito. Sorry you’re… You know.”

He nodded along, showing he understood what you meant. You felt bad that he was in this situation--in this position, but you weren’t sure if you could even do anything about it. Or if you even should. The last thing you wanted was for the others to suspect you for aiding the traitor--if that’s even what he is.

“Maybe I can return the favor when this is over?” He joked, a grin on his lips yet a hint of sincerity in his voice and a sparkle in his eye.

“...Maybe you can.”


End file.
